Intrigued Is An Understatement
by Nonumaru
Summary: Sherlock is forced to let go of a lot in his life. However, when he meets fellow classmate John Watson, he realizes that he is going to have a lot harder time letting go of this one.


Hello everyone! This is Nonumaru. I'm a new fan to the Sherlock series and all that it entails. I'm a proud American, which means that I have not the slightest clue of British slang and culture. Most of the things I do know are looked up for your pleasure (really so you digitally won't punch the daylights out of me). So, if you have anything to tell me about the wonders of England because you are English, know about it, or just think I'm a ratchet ass American, please tell me! ;D Enjoy, read and review always!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Sherlock Holmes. He owns his fans' hearts.

**XXX~XXX~XXX**

Tick…Tick.

Tick…Tick.

Tick…Tick… "Damn, the clocks are off again."

Long slender fingers made to turn the side dial of a golden watch. They stopped merely inches before reaching it, hesitating.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

"MRS. HUDSON!"

"Oh gracious me Sherlock! Stop yelling for heavens sake! You'll wake up the neighbors."

Sherlock scoffed. Like he really cared about his noisy, petulant neighbors. He'd seen the flat next door. It looked like a steamroller had gone through it. It was completely unlike his own flat. Everything was in its proper place of course.

Mrs. Hudson appeared in the door, hands on the frame, huffing and puffing, "Now, Dearie, what is wrong?"

"Would you happen to know if the clocks here show the time down to the exact second?"

His caretaker/landlady sighed exasperatedly, "Ooooh Sherlock! Of course! I made sure of that when you moved in."

Sherlock Holmes nodded curtly from his perch on the leather armchair. He fixed the clock to his satisfaction, turning the dial slightly to the side. As Mrs. Hudson made her way down the stairs, she called up, "Sherlock, don't you have school today?"

"Tomorrow, at seven forty-five is the first day of grade ten in secondary school. Lovely," he said more to himself than to his landlady. The curly, dark haired man stood up quickly. He grabbed his long trench coat with a flourish and walked out of his flat. "I'm going out," was the only statement of reassurance he gave his caretaker.

Arriving at 221B Baker Street a week ago did not make Sherlock Holmes blink in the least. He was used to being shipped off from place to place by his parents constantly. The people in each place were always so predictable in each and every way. There was absolutely no point in making friends when he was just going to move in the next year and a half anyway.

There was a sharp corner in which he ran right into a hurrying young man.

_THUD _"Shit!" the blond who he was entangled with on the ground swore.

Sherlock immediately stood up, brushing himself off and straightening his coat. "You gave me quite the fright."

The young blond-haired man stood, picking up his dropped notebook. He was quite handsome Sherlock observed. He had rare bright blue eyes and a rather lightly tanned skin tone. "I apologize, I wasn't watching where I was walking."

"Of course you weren't," Sherlock said, waving a nonchalant hand. The man's face scrunched up in slight anger. He averted his eyes to the side.

"But neither was I." To that the man looked up again, twin orbs full of confusion. "You are a grade ten student aren't you, finished shopping I see."

"H-how, did you-"

"It is obvious isn't it?" Sherlock took a small step towards the young man, towering over him. After all, there was at least a five-inch difference between the two of them. The teen wore a sleek leather jacket and tight fitting jeans. Signs of a button up shirt peaked out from under the jacket.

The blond chuckled slightly, "Not to me, unless you are some sort of stalker."

Sherlock gave a strained smile and began to speak, "Of course not. It is simple. Let me explain." He took a deep, strained breath, and began. "Your shoes, or converse are red and worn much on the bottom whereas on the top they look relatively clean, displaying that you participate some sort of sport indoors, or in a clean facility. In this case, most likely track or cross country running. Both of these sports are more common in secondary school. In addition to that, there are signs of slight facial hair that has started to grow on your face. You are just going through puberty, a 'late bloomer'. Your small stature and height shows this as well. As for your shopping spree, simple, you are clearly holding a plastic bag from an office store. The contents in it are wide and rectangular, each making its own special indentation in the bag. This suggests five spirals, three binders and one ream of lined paper."

The only thing the other could do was stare, mouth agape and hold out his hand to shake. "Umm the name's John Watson. It's nice to meet you."

Sherlock accepted a quick shake of John's hand before letting his hand retreat back into his coat. "Sherlock Holmes. I assume that you will be going to Westray as well."

John nodded.

Sherlock began walking past the blonde. "I'll see you around then."

"Wait a sec." John had confusion swimming around in his eyes, as if there were many unasked questions he needed answers to. All he could manage out was one. "How did you know I was in the tenth grade?"

The curly haired teen smirked. "I happen to be one myself. We all hold ourselves different ways." He began to walk away once more. "Good day, Mr. Watson." The blonde's name came out in a deep baritone that made John shudder.

"D-damn." All John could do was stand and stare at Sherlock's retreating back and wonder what other universe the man had come from.

**XXX~XXX~XXX**

To say that Sherlock despised school was an understatement. The halls were messy, drugs were prominent and the constant scene of couples snogging just made him lurgy. Did they have an ounce of self-control at all?

Worse than the pupils was the structure of it all. Twenty to thirty students were in a classroom when usually at least half of them weren't listening, or on their cell phones without the dense teacher knowing. Sherlock swore, if he heard one more of those damned-

_BUZZ, BUZZ _A couple of kids in the back chuckled heartily. Holmes turned around, "Do you mind?"

A girl with short, chin length brown hair whose phone had gone off smiled. "Nah, but you obviously do, prat."

A bunch of her friends burst into another fit of giggles. "You tell him Skylar!"

The teacher was oblivious to the whole ordeal; her attention was firmly fixed on writing something on the board. After a few more minutes of taunting and whispering she finally swiveled around. "Okay everyone, quiet down." When the chatter died down she began again. "I know this is the first day of school, but we have an assignment for you to contemplate."

There was a collective groan.Sherlock just rolled his eyes.Wasn't this what school was for? Learning from boring upon boring homework assignment?

"With a group of four of your fellow tenth graders from any of the honors English classes, you will write a novel by the end of this school year. Doesn't that sound _fun_?"

There was complete silence in the room. One could've heard a pin drop in there. The teacher shuffled her feet in agitation. "Well, don't you guys have questions? This is a big deal for our English department here at Westray. Plus, it will be a great way to make new friends. Some of you could even get published." She ended the sentence with a sickly smile that put even Holmes on edge.

That's just cheeky, lady. There was no way in hell Sherlock fucking Holmes would be working in a group with a bunch of people with the brain capacity of a goldfish. It just wasn't happening.

With any crazy situation like this one, someone did have a question. Skylar, the girl in the back raised her hand. "Do we get to pick our own groups, or are they going to be chosen?"

The teacher sighed. "The groups will be given to you by next Monday. Uuhh… what is your name dear?"

"Skylar Westray. My great grandpa founded this school." The girl leaned back in her chair nonchalantly, her feet stretched out under the desk lazily. Sherlock snorted, and thought, "I thought that her name was undignified snob. I highly doubt I'm mistaken."

"Delightful! Nice to meet you Skylar." The teacher paused, now going into lecturing mode. "Your group will consist of two boys and two girls. Once a month, your English period will be in the library will be dedicated to this project. However, you will need to do a lot more work outside of school to get this into at least a one-hundred page novel. Does that make sense?"

There were nods and grumbles from all over the room. Sherlock sighed and clasped his hands together in front of his face in thought. This was going to be a very long year.

**XXX~XXX~XXX**

_TAP, TAP, TAP _"Sherlock! Open up at once."

The curly haired teen was currently staring at the ceiling contemplating on which way was best to go about killing his brother. _TAP, TAP, TAP _ "While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door.' Only this and nothing more."

Sherlock recited this as he walked over to the door, abruptly opening it. "This is quite an… unlikely disturbance Mycroft. I thought that you had gone to University already." It revealed a clean-shaven red-haired young man. His posture was perfectly straight.

"Oh, brother dear, are we assuming again?" Mycroft stood in the doorframe with an intense gaze settling on his sibling. His hand rested daintily on his massive umbrella.

Sherlock smiled sickingly sweet. "Of course not, _brother dear_." He walked over to his leather armchair and plopped down rather loud. "Now what is it that you want Mycroft? I don't have all day."

"I would like to make a proposition for you, regarding a certain John Watson."

The younger Holmes's eyes widened.

"Aaaah, so you do know him." Mycroft appeared to internally jump with glee. "Lovely, that will help a lot with what I am about to tell you." The redhead folded his hands on his umbrella and began.

XXX~XXX~XXX

What do you think so far? A little bit of old and new is going to be mixed into this story. Tell me what you think would ya?


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